Bend and Stretch
by Reinbeauchaser
Summary: Michelangelo has a question - and a mission! Influenced by a discussion last year 2007 on Stealthy Stories. Mike and Don centric. One-Shot


_**Disclaimer**__ – Some time last year, there was a discussion on Stealthy Stories about how it is the TMNT'__s can bend and __stretch, __and __do __all the __things that normal turtles __can't__ do. While I __don't__ have the answer here, one of the TMNT's decided to take advantage of the mystery. This is a one-shot._

_As always, though, I __don'__t__ own him, his brothers,__ his sensei, or the copyrights to this marvelous and entertaining __world of mutant, ninja reptiles_.

**Bend and Stretch**

_by__ reinbeauchaser_

_**xxxxx**_

Mike stood there in front of the bathroom mirror. He stared at his reflection. He took in his torso. Mike breathed in, Mike breathed out. In. Out.

Then, with his feet firmly planted and with hands where his hips would be if he were human, Mike twisted his torso slowly to the left. He held his pose and quirked one eye curiously at the mirror, raking over his image. He then twisted to the right and smiled, then left, then right. Left. Right.

Mike's smile grew. He relaxed for a moment before stretching one arm up, very slowly, watching the plates of his plastron react in tune with his reach. He brought it down to his side and did the same with the other arm. He then followed that maneuver with stretching both at the same time. Satisfied, he bent himself back as far as his shell would allow, his eyes never leaving his mirrored image. He held this position and ran a hand over his plastron, wedging a finger between two plates, and as he straightened back up, he fingered the area until the plates came together again and lightly pinched his digit.

"Hmmm…that's very weird."

Michelangelo burst from the bathroom, hollering, "DONNNNNIE!" and headed straightaway to his brainy brother's stronghold. The lab.

Completely ignoring the stairs to his left, instead Mike vaulted down to the main room of the lair. The moment his feet hit concrete, "DONNNNNIE!" he yelled again, as he ran to find his brother.

Sliding into Donatello's haven of technology, Mikey skidded to a stop and realized why his brother hadn't answered him.

Don had his back to him, his head bouncing lightly, rhythmically, his headphones strapped to his head, the cord from the headphones jacked into his MP3. He hummed a slightly off-key tune. He worked happily at his desk as he fiddled with his latest project, something he was inventing; something he knew would be fantastic. With Foot activity down and after a week of uninterrupted patrolling, Leo had declared a brief break in their routine. They were all currently in day three in their mini vacation. Leo was in the dojo – working out per usual, while Raph had gone over to Casey's to watch ice hockey.

As for Don, it didn't take rocket science to know what HE would be doing during their little break. Don wasted no time with following through with an idea of his that had ruminated at the back of his mind for the better part of a month. Too busy dealing with criminals at the time, the idea had grown and fermented until, now, he could realize it. And, he was half-way through his twenty-second sleepless hour, too, working on his project, the project that had his full attention. Well, that and the music he was listening to, but in any case, Don failed to sense his baby brother standing right behind him.

Not a good thing.

Mike grinned wide and tiptoed, sneaking up behind his brother, and then deftly ripped the phones from Donatello's head, "HEY, DONNNNNIE!"

"AHHHHHHH!" Don jumped from his chair. He whirled around to face the one who had interrupted his reverie, his eyes wide in shocked surprise.

Mike grinned, "Hey, I gotta question for ya!"

"**Whatareyoutryingtodo, givemeaheartattack**?" Don stood there, panting, one hand on his chest, the other steadying himself against the desk.

"No, why?" Mike batted his eyes fetchingly.

"Don't sneak up on me like that when I have my headphones on, okay?" Don growled, annoyed

"You're ninja, Don; I'm not supposed to be able to sneak up on you."

"I'm ninja when I have to be, Mike, and I shouldn't have to be in my own home."

"Aaaand…how long have you lived here?" Mike laughed, and then pressed his question, "Aaaanyway, Don, now that you're recovered…how come we can bend?

Don stood there blinking incredulously, his eye ridges pinched in confusion, "What? You scare me half outta my shell to ask THAT? Are you NUTS?"

"No, I'm Michelangelo, the Nexus Champion, and handsomest mutant turtle in New York City. But…to answer your question, no, I'm not stupid and the only nuts I have …"

"HOW then can any question be so important that you have to scare the living…"

"I mean, com'on, Don, we're turtles…" Mike wagged his head condescendingly and then moved the rest of his body around, stretching his arms and body for emphasis, "we shouldn't be able to bend and stretch and do all the things humans can do." Mike ceased his stationary gymnastics to rap a knuckle against his chest, "and still have a plastron hard enough to repel bullets."

"You're exaggerating. Our shells can't repel bullets and that question has to be the most inane…"

"Did you ever think about it, though, how we can do all the things we can do?"

"No…no, I didn't, not really." Donnie sighed, knowing that Mike had baited him.

Mike grinned, "Yeah, right, you, of all turtles – would think about these things."

Determined to turn the tables, Don queried, "What brought this on, Mike?"

Mike leaned his shell up against Don's desk and folded his arms across his plastron. He gave a smug look at his brother, "Watched an episode of Animal Planet tonight and they had a special on turtles and tortoises, and they said that the only parts that can move are the legs, the head and neck, and the tail. Their shells and plastrons are immovable. So…it got me thinking, why we're not like that." He thought for a moment, reflectively, and then added as an afterthought, "Well, why our plastrons can move, anyway."

"What does it matter?"

"Oh, I dunno," Mike pushed from the desk and walked around Don's cluttered lab. As he casually inspected the various items there, "Just wondering why we can do what we do and not be limited in movement like our – cousins are."

Don stood there, silent, eyeing his brother and wondering what Mike really had up his sleeve; that is if he had any. Finally, he acquiesced, "Well, more than likely the mutation had a lot to do with it, maybe the ooze altered our plastrons to allow for movement…it certainly gave us the means to be bipedal – and to think, talk, etcetera."

Mike turned, nodding, "Among other things, right, bro?" He smiled.

A cautious grin on Don's face betrayed his suspicions, "Yeah, among other things."

"Well," Mike shrugged as he turned around towards the exit, "guess we'll never know for sure, but it _is_ an interesting question." He stretched, then, to make his point, one arm raised high, his plates creaking in response, and then Mike walked towards the opening of Don's lab that led to the main part of the lair, "Well, since you don't seem to have the answer, I'll just forget about it…"

Don watched Mike leave, a peculiar expression on his face. One eye twitched. He looked down at his project, his marvelous something, the invention of the week, and suddenly, he lost all interest.

_Why indeed can we bend and stretch_, he thought to himself.

Morning arrived and Mike was first up, raiding the refrigerator for breakfast. Before long, the smell of eggs, bacon and pancakes wafted throughout the lair, enticing Raphael, then Leonardo, and finally Splinter from their rooms. As he set the various dishes of food on the kitchen table, three members of his family came into the kitchen area, each one expectant and hungry. They quickly took their respective seats.

A few moments passed and when the fourth turtle still had not made an appearance, Master Splinter asked, "Where is Donatello?"

Almost on cue, a blurry-eyed purple masked turtle shuffled into the kitchen, mumbling groggily, "Coffee…did you make coffee, yet, Mike?"

Cheerily, Mike replied, "Yep, right here bro…" and handed him a cup of java juice, "black, just the way you like it!"

Grabbing the cup, Don said dryly, "Thanks," then turned back around to head out of the kitchen again.

"My son, are you alright?"

Don turned red-rimmed eyes to the rat, "Yes, Sensei, I'm in the middle of something and need to get back to it." The sleepy turtle proceeded towards his room.

Raph and Leo stared at their genius brother. His eyes were bloodshot, his posture slouched, his steps wearied. Yet, Don ignored their inspection as he left the kitchen, heading back to his lab. They looked at Mike and noticed his giant-sized grin.

"So, little brother o'mine," Raph asked as he leaned back in his chair, "you seem far too happy this morning."

"Raph, Mikey's always happy."

"Yer right as always, Leo." Raph looked back at his baby brother, "Let me rephrase the question. Mike, you seem far too deviously happy this morning.

Leo smiled and gave a nod, "Much better," and joined Raph in watching their youngest sibling expectantly.

"Oh Raphie, Leo," Mike gave an effeminate wave of his hand, "I'm a morning person, you know that!"

Raph rolled his eyes and began filling his plate with breakfast, "Yeah, an' I'm the tooth-fairy."

Leo smirked and then coughed as he asked, "I'll skip the temptation, but – Mike - what'd you say to Don last night?"

"Nothing." Mike gave Splinter his mug of tea and the rat took it, thanking him. Mike then began sitting plates of food on the table before sitting down to join the rest of his family.

"You must have said something to him that kept him up all night, I heard you yell for him." Then, Leo seemed to brighten, "It has something to do with that special on reptiles you watched, right?"

Mike grinned, saying, "Maybe," as he snagged four pancakes at once with his fork.

"Donatello had been up for many hours already," Splinter concurred, "What did you tell him, my son, that would keep him from going to bed?" The rat took a sip of his tea and waited for Michelangelo to answer.

"Nothing important…"

"If it wasn't important," Raphael said between bites, "then why does Don look as if he's been up all night."

"Oh, he hasn't been up all night, Raphie," Mike said innocently, "He's been up for…_two_."

"What exactly did you say to him?" Leo leaned over the table as he shot an accusatory look at his baby brother.

"Leo, com'on," Mike huffed, one hand to his chest, apparently offended, "why would you even think that I'd say something to our 'genius brother that would keep him up _all_ night. After all, he knows everything!" Michelangelo then grinned evilly, "All I asked him was why is it our plastron can bend and stretch while regular turtle plastrons can't."

"You asked him…THAT?" Leo shook his head, "You know better than to ask him questions about our mutation."

"Yeah, I know…" Mike smirked, "And Don knows better than to put off fixing my stuff." He sniffed indignantly, "Didn't even offer to loan me his."

"You break things, remember?"

"And Don fixes things, Raphie."

"Your point?"

"Ah, Raphael, that IS my point," Mike poked one finger in the air, "Loaning me his MP3 would get Donnie to fix mine as soon as possible! Maybe," Mike waggled an eye ridge, "before I even had a chance to break _his_!"

"Good point," Leo and Raph both chorused.

"Exactly!" and Mike stuffed his mouth with more pancake, grinning like the Cheshire cat himself.

Splinter said nothing, but smiled into his cup of tea as he thought, _Obviously, Donatello __isn't__ the only genius in the family._

_**xxxxx**_

_**Fini**_


End file.
